vigilaveris
by MsEstora
Summary: AU. There was a different victor on Mustafar. ("Luminous beings we are," Obi-Wan whispers, "not this crude matter." The tears he weeps are not those of a child's.)
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

_A/N:__ Inspired by __**Imadra Blue**'s _Tatoe_. __I have been a massive, massive fan of _Tatoe _since forever and I think everyone should read it ASAP if they haven't already, and I've always wanted to write something based on the premise. Recently _**_Imadra Blue_**_ gave me her blessing! It has the basic idea/similar premise executed with a different __plot. This will probably be very slow in the making. Not sure how many chapters this will turn out to be, but I'm really hoping that if I actually manage to write this thing, I won't have to write more than 15 chapters. (I said the same for _From The Ashes_, and, well, look how that one turned out…)_

* * *

**vigilaveris**

– part one –

_Where am I?_

The fires of Mustafar had scorched the air he breathed, making his movements sluggish and his lungs burn, and the combination of fear and heat and pain made sweat drip down his face. His lungs burn with pain and he's still sweating, he thinks – he feels his face is wet, but it's not warm anymore, he's cold and shaking.

_Where am I?_

"Shh." A gentle, calloused hand – it feels large, out of proportion – presses on his forehead. His skin is tender and he flinches and wrenches his eyes open. The light is blinding, white walls and ceiling tall and towering around him, and the air sterile and heavy with the scent of bacta and antiseptics, and he chokes, blinking through tears for about something he's not sure of. The strange yet familiar hand is on his shoulder now, gently pushing him back down onto the sheets. "Don't move."

_You underestimate my power!_

He wants to lean into the presence, and run away at the same time.

_No, Anakin, please – don't try it, don't make me hurt you_ –

"It's all right. I saved you."

His eyes are still weak and blurry, unable to focus on the figure beside him, but he knows that voice anywhere. _Remembers_ the last time he heard it, remembers – a long pause, the charred bank between them and Anakin – _no, not Anakin, Vader_ – at the bottom, ready to jump – _don't try it!_ – then leaping through the smoke, his burning eyes pinning Obi-Wan to the spot.

He'd brought his lightsaber up to meet the Sith's knee, then the other knee – except it didn't happen like that at all, and Obi-Wan hadn't moved, his body frozen and his lightsaber held back by his broken heart. Anakin's lightsaber – _he modelled it on mine_ – slashing down his back, a hard boot kicking him into the superheated black sand. It burned his skin, blistering his fingers when he'd grasped at it, burned away his tears, burning his mouth and tongue when he gasped for air that wouldn't reach his lungs.

He moans, the sharp agony of Anakin's betrayal hurting more than the fires that consumed his body as Anakin watched –

_I don't know where I am_.

"You're safe."

He opens his eyes again, and realises he can focus now.

Anakin has always appeared larger than life, and made no secret of the fact that he delighted in being taller than Obi-Wan. But he's too big, and Obi-Wan feels too small, too_weak_, and shakes his head. "I should be dead."

It comes out as a hoarse whisper, but to his own ears he sounds wrong, all wrong. Anakin's smile is also wrong, intended to be comforting but instead just looking dark and it doesn't reach his eyes. They're blue now, but the rim of yellow and red of the Dark Side surely can't be lurking too far away. "You should sleep, Obi-Wan. You hurt yourself very badly. Remember?"

_The slash of a lightsaber, his whole body on fire –_

"I couldn't save your original body."

Obi-Wan shakes his head again, unable to comprehend. Anakin keeps smiling, and his too-large hand keeps stroking Obi-Wan's forehead.

"I made you a clone of yourself," Anakin explains, as though he can read Obi-Wan's mind. "I'm powerful, now. I transferred your consciousness into this body."

He still doesn't understand, so he focuses on the only things that he remembers or that make sense to him. Yoda, Sidious, the Jedi – _oh Force, the Jedi_ – and – "Pa– Pad…mé…?" he manages to whisper.

"She's safe as well. You'll see her soon, if you behave."

He's struggling to keep his eyes open now. He's so tired and so sore and he thinks his body hurts and feels like it's burning but he's cold and shaking, and Anakin's arms – _no, you're not Anakin, leave me alone_ – come around his shoulders.

"Shh. Rest. You're tired. You'll understand what I've done for you later."

He doesn't want to close his eyes, but something nudges at his mind and makes him obey.

_No_, he thinks, but his head falls against Anakin's chest and a strange mesh of the scent of familiar cologne and ash disorientates him, and he can't remember if he's safe with his best friend by his side or he's dying on Mustafar as the darkness consumes him.


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:__ This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by George Lucas. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended._

_A/N:__ I'm absolutely chuffed by the reception to the first part! Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to review; I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far! Like I said, updates will be pretty slow, but ah well. Here's the next part!_

* * *

**vigilaveris**

– part two –

The person staring back at him from the mirror is a stranger. No, not a person – a child. If he digs through his memories hard enough, tries to grasp at what's left of his mind, Obi-Wan can barely just recall the face as being his. A child's face, innocent and unblemished, skin soft and smooth and cheeks pink. Even his eyes are different – more green than blue, shining with a child's brightness. His hair is soft as well. Reddish – more red than it had been only last week. Or is that two weeks? He doesn't know. His concept of time has altered drastically, and he doesn't even know if it's day or night. All he does know – or all he can figure out – is that the Emperor is dead by Anakin's hand.

_Everyone_ is dead by Anakin's hand.

"How old am I?" he whispers, looking at his reflection in barely disguised horror.

Anakin has been silent this whole time, and remains silent now. He stands in the corner of the room, half-hidden by a shadow, and peers at Obi-Wan with his yellow-rimmed blue eyes. "You're five years old," he eventually says.

"I'm… I'm so small."

He clenches his too-small fists, feeling weak. He wonders if he can even touch the Force. He's unsteady on his unfamiliar legs and feet, and it takes effort to balance without shaking. He has to wonder if Anakin chose this age for a reason; if he's enjoying watching his former Master wobble around on knobbly legs in the body of a child whose neck he could crush with much less effort than when he'd wrapped the Force around his pregnant wife's throat.

Anakin doesn't reply to this. He just keeps watching Obi-Wan, his expression unreadable. Obi-Wan doesn't like that look on him.

"Man I have a moment alone?" Obi-Wan asks. "Please?"

Anakin nods. "Of course. Come back to your room when you're ready."

He leaves with a sweep of his black cloak. It's over-dramatic and entirely absurd, and Obi-Wan would laugh if there were something funny about the situation. The door closes and he's left alone in the stark white 'fresher (Kamino, he's decided, he must be on Kamino, it's the only logical explanation) to his reflection.

"Luminous beings we are," Obi-Wan whispers, "not this crude matter."

The tears he weeps are not those of a child's.

* * *

"Your name is Ben, now. Ben Skywalker."

"Why?"

Obi-Wan watches Anakin force himself to keep his anger in check, force himself to treat Obi-Wan as an inquisitive five-year-old child instead of a man who is intentionally baiting him. "Because I've adopted you," Anakin says slowly. "Your father Obi-Wan Kenobi was my friend. He betrayed me, and I had no choice but to neutralise him. You were orphaned, Ben – but I'm giving you a home, and a family." Anakin smiles, but it's unpleasant to Obi-Wan. "You're my son, now. Prince Ben, heir to the Skywalker Dynasty. You will call me 'Dad'. Or 'father', if you prefer."

It's a good cover story – one Vader's Empire will believe and sympathise with. Obi-Wan thinks, if he were a different person and this were a different circumstance, he might even appreciate it.

But Obi-Wan is in no mood to pander to Anakin at the moment. "This is ridiculous," he says tightly, but his child's voice makes _him_ sound ridiculous. "For Force's sake, Anakin –"

"_Father_," Anakin says darkly. "You ought to be grateful to me, Ben."

Obi-Wan fumes. "You said I'd be able to see Padmé." He sounds petulant. Whiny. Like he'd been promised a treat that isn't being delivered, and is on the verge of chucking a tantrum. Throwing a tantrum doesn't sound like a half-bad idea.

"I said you could, if you behaved." Anakin's eyes narrow. "You're not behaving right now."

Suddenly Obi-Wan understands why Anakin saved him from certain death – saved his mind, anyway. Kamino has the ability to grow clones extremely quickly; Anakin could have easily kept Obi-Wan's body growing until he was his proper age again. But instead he chose five. He chose to keep Obi-Wan young and susceptible and _vulnerable_.

No-one will take him seriously if he tries to talk.

He sits there, silently, under Anakin's cold gaze. "Is this revenge, Anakin?"

"Revenge would have been letting you die, my old Master." Anakin reaches out to grasp Obi-Wan's chin. Obi-Wan flinches and tries to pull away, but Anakin's hand is strong and large and holds him tightly. "You were mistreated by the Jedi, like I was. They brainwashed you. You didn't know any better. I'm going to teach you what a family is really like. You _are_ my son, now. And you will be a brother to my son or daughter, when it is born."

Delusions of talking with Padmé in secret, somehow getting in contact with Bail (_please be alive_) and escaping with Anakin's child to go into hiding, race through Obi-Wan's mind. He could do it, he thinks. He could –

"_Don't_. Even think about it."

Anakin's hand, tightening on his jaw. Obi-Wan can't help it; he yelps in surprise, then in pain, and Anakin's eyes flare yellow. Any more pressure, and he'll crush the delicate bone structure. He could have used the Force for this – wrapped it around his small neck and squeezed, all without moving a muscle. But the rough hold of his hand on Obi-Wan's jaw, paralysing him in place, is all that more personal.

"I don't want to cut you off from the Force, Ben, but I will if you make me."

It's a dare. A challenge. _Defy me, and I'll punish you_.

Obi-Wan half thinks Anakin wants him to snap back – to cry out in outrage and anger and attempt to fight him with his small, weak body of his. Possibly he's even _expecting_ it.

So Obi-Wan stays silent, and just stares.

Anakin breathes hard, looking confused and frustrated. He lets go of Obi-Wan's face, eyes hard. "I've been generous to you, Obi-Wan. We both know you had the chance to kill me. But you didn't take the blow, so I did. I didn't _have_ to save you, you know."

_I think I'd rather have died_. He doesn't say that. "Why _did_ you save me?"

For a moment, Anakin's eyes are blue again – the way they used to be – and Obi-Wan can't find the mental shields or the presence of the Force to help him release the sudden rush of emotion. But as quickly as they appeared, it's gone again, replaced by the rim of yellow and cracked red, and the illusion snaps firmly back into place. "Because I loved Obi-Wan Kenobi, even though he betrayed me. He raised me, and I love him for that. So now, I'm going to raise _you_. And I'm going to make sure you're raised _properly_."

Obi-Wan clamps down on the urge to recoil when Anakin picks him up and holds him with strong arms, like he's a defenceless ragdoll. His face burns in humiliation – he's being _carried_, like a _child_ – and he can't pull away from Anakin's tight grasp.

"I'm taking you back to Coruscant," Anakin explains. "The Empress –" He pauses, and smiles. It isn't comforting. "Your mother is waiting for us there."

Obi-Wan buries his face in the fabric of Anakin's chest, squeezing his eyes closed. He can't fight back. He can't do _anything_. Except this. "Yes," he whispers, "Father."


End file.
